


Random Texts with Mr. Sexy

by DenaCeleste



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Flirting, College Life, Daddy Kink, Epistolary, Fluffy, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Mates, Mates by Choice, Mixed Media, Praise Kink, Schmoop, Sexting, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Shower Sex, Silly, Text Messages, Tiny Angst, compliments, references to Chris Argent/Sheriff Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 10,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/pseuds/DenaCeleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Peter agree to test out a relationship. The only problem is that Stiles is off to university, and much of their interactions will be at a distance. Thank goodness for technology! </p>
<p>They haven't really reached the boning level of relationship yet, because while Stiles is a horny bastard, he kinda wants to flirt and be wooed and develop a bond before they do the do. But sexting doesn't count, does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/gifts), [charlottecjhlvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottecjhlvr/gifts).



> Chatting with the lovely [Mysenia](http://mysenia.tumblr.com/) about my perverse mind and suggestive emojis, this happened. I'll probably post random little tidbits here and there. This is pure self-indulgence. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to [Charlotte](http://charlottecjhlvr.tumblr.com/) for helping me figure out how to get an image in a fic. Because I was lost. <3
> 
>   **Unless otherwise stated, all works are unbetaed. Please no public concrit. Please keep comments positive. Any private concrit can be directed to my Tumblr ask box.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is bored, Peter responds, and then a Jayne Cobb reference.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles interprets the narration from How It's Made in a sexual way. Much to Peter's shock, of course.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has strange, werewolf ideas of romance. On the other hand, Stiles doesn't mind it too much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles sends Peter a package this time. Derek is traumatized and proceeds to threaten Stiles via text.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Derek's little freak-out, he won't look Peter in the eye. Peter complains to Stiles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles contemplates how his Beacon Hills high school career helped prepare him for the future. Peter offers sass. Of course he does.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College classes can be boring, so boring, and it's not doing good things for Stiles' attention span.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles drunk-texts Peter, plus his friend Beverly helps him out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after brings Stiles a hangover. Peter's supposed to distract him. It mostly works.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter offers to help bring Stiles home for Thanksgiving break so he can see his family. Flirting, possessive banter, and making fun of Scott ensue.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is the season for parties, costumes, candy, and spirits. Stiles is looking forward to the first three, Peter worries about the last one.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Halloween finds Stiles somewhat hungover. Also, drunk Sparks see spirits. Who knew? Well, apparently not Peter.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles can't get in touch with Peter. Needless to say this causes some anxiety.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is still pissed at being left out of the loop. He and Peter have a conversation about that.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles receives a special gift from Peter, who is attempting to woo his boyfriend from afar. But Stiles isn't the only gift recipient of Peter's that day.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wants Stiles to have pleasant dreams. He knows his boy better than Stiles thought. Peter also may, or may not, know how to knit. He can neither confirm nor deny such a thing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's charmed knitting works, to Stiles' shock and delight. He had pleasant dreams, that was for damn sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (any insult towards crocheters is purely Peter's opinion, more about Derek than crocheters at large, and not the author's own, especially since the author is a crocheter)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has another sexy dream, and it's making him braver. He has an idea of something he wants when he next sees Peter, and has a very fun time explaining it to him. This may lead to sexting. Possibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be sexting in this chapter! Also, upped the rating to M, just to be safe.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Stiles to fly home to see his family, and to pounce on Peter. Stage one, getting past airport security. And procuring food.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plane finally lands, and now Stiles has to find Peter. What'll happen when he does? Or will Peter find him first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we transition from texting to, well, interacting. There will likely be a mix of the two formats for the next couple of chapters. Hope you guys like it! *hides face*

 

“Stiles, turn around.”

 

That voice, that fucking voice hit him like a punch to the gut, only way more pleasant, and Stiles whipped around. Peter stood there, arms held out to his side, eyes wide with pseudo-impatience. Even Stiles could tell that much.  

 

Stiles leapt at him.

 

Well, Stiles tried to leap at him. He pocketed his phone, dropped his bags, and in his haste tripped over a stray strap. He fell right into Peter’s waiting arms, and found himself nose-to-nose with the werewolf.

 

“Good thing you’re fast,” Stiles breathed out. He swallowed hard, licked his lips nervously. He locked onto Peter’s beautiful blue eyes, watched the color nearly disappear, the pupils dilated as Peter tracked his tongue.

 

Peter helped Stiles to stand, their bodies close, but not too close, a few inches of space between them. Perfectly fine for public spaces, they were totally appropriate. His hands settled at Stiles’ elbows, rubbing at the sensitive skin there. Tingles of pleasure raced across Stiles’ body, and his skin buzzed with it.

 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed with a superior tilt of his chin, “fast in some ways. Not in others. I believe we had a talk about stamina and werewolves.” He smirked, and his left eyebrow twitched up.

 

Stiles flushed, could feel the heat crawl down his neck from his cheeks. “We did. Yes. You gonna kiss me now? I kinda missed you, you asshole.”

 

“Why, darling, I only waited for your invitation.” Peter’s teasing lilt sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine, but that was nothing compared to when the man slid a firm hand around his waist. He pulled Stiles closer, until there wasn’t a centimeter between them from chest to hips, one of Peter’s legs between his own.

 

Peter cradled his face with his other hand and used his thumb to angle Stiles’ chin up. They slid into the kiss, effortless, drawn together like magnets.

 

Stiles whimpered, short and high-pitched, and drew Peter’s top lip between his own, teased him with tiny sucking pulls before he licked at it. He wound his arms around the man’s neck, toyed with the velvety soft hair at the base, scratched with his nails just enough for Peter to moan.

 

The noise vibrated through Stiles, and Peter’s arm tightened around his back. He hadn’t thought they could get closer. He’d been wrong. Their kiss deepened, tongues sliding wet and warm, bodies swaying as one.

 

“Guys, you’re in public. Do you mind?” Another voice, this one both fond and annoyed.

 

Peter pulled away, and Stiles trapped him in place with a pout. “Nooo. Don’t stop yet.”

 

“I don’t want to spend the rest of your time here in jail, Stiles,” Peter murmured and swiped a few strands of Stiles’ hair from his forehead. “We have plans.”

 

Stiles groaned, let his head fall to Peter’s shoulder, and called out, “Thanks for ruining the moment, Dad!” He peeked to his left, and heaved a sigh.

 

“Not a problem. Now let go of your boyfriend and give your dad a hug.” The Sheriff waited there, uniform still on, hands fisted on his hips and a wry look on his face.

 

Peter patted Stiles’ hip, let his fingers trail away as he backed off. “I’ll get your bags. Go say hi.” He pecked Stiles’ cheek with a smack, and Stiles trudged over to his Dad.

 

“Missed you, old man.” Stiles swung his arms around him, held him close. “You sticking to your diet?”

 

“Who’re you calling an old man, squirt?” He tapped the back of Stiles’ head. “And have your spies reported otherwise?”

 

Stiles gave him the most suspicious side-eye he could. “That wasn’t a yes.”

 

Peter interrupted by walking between them, Stiles’ bags hefted in his hands. “Let’s head out. You can interrogate him later.”

 

Stiles shrugged, trying for nonchalant, but he couldn’t keep the delighted smile from spreading across his face. “Okay. Let’s boogie.” He rubbed his hand over his lips, watched Peter’s ass as he led the way. Yeah, this was going to be the best break ever.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first night back in Beacon Hills, Stiles spends at his Dad's because for some reason the man insists on spending time with his son on family holidays. He doesn't mind that much, but he does miss Peter. Commence the whining, and perhaps a midnight visit from his friendly neighborhood werewolf to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another mixed media chapter, which will occur until Stiles heads back to school. Hope y'all enjoy it!

“Peter!” Stiles hissed, pushing his window up and standing to the side for Peter to land inside on quiet feet. “What are you doing?”

 

“Sneaking around,” Peter whispered back. He cocked his head, listened. “Your father is asleep. I figured I’d come in for some illicit cuddling, and because I’d like to kiss you when we aren’t watched by an entire airport full of people.”

 

Stiles flushed, cleared his throat. “Good to know that.” He reached for Peter, wove their hands together. “I missed you. It’s good to be home.”

 

Peter smirked and yanked Stiles close. “Home, and now with me. It could be worse.” He stole a kiss, sweet and fast, before backing his way to the bed, Stiles following with a helpless pout.

 

“Could definitely be worse. I could be dreaming, and I’m really stuck at school until fucking December.” He crowded Peter once they reached the bed, climbed into the man’s lap.

 

Peter’s hands spanned the small of his back, supported him and teased just above the elastic of Stiles’ boxers with his nails. His blue eyes flared brighter, and Stiles traced just beneath them with a delicate stroke. “So pretty. How are you so damn pretty?”

 

With an uptilt of his chin, Peter reached for another kiss. Their lips rubbed together, soft and damp, before he pulled away. “I don’t know, darling, I’m rather fond of your gorgeous brown eyes. Maybe that label fits you better. Besides, I thought I was ruggedly handsome.” He scrunched his nose.

 

Stiles chortled and rested his cheek against Peter’s. “Oh yeah, rugged. Yep. Sure, we can go with that,” he finished with a wheezing laugh. “Sorry, maybe not. But pretty works. Maybe gorgeous?”

 

Peter bared his teeth and swung Stiles onto the bed, then climbed between his legs and rested atop him with a sinuous wiggle. He pinned his wrists to the wrinkled bed sheets and touched the tips of their noses together. His fangs grew, his eyes flared even brighter, and he growled, “I can show you rugged.”

 

Stiles gulped, a shiver of fear twined with arousal working its way through his body. “Yeah? You think?”

 

Peter pressed down on him, then stopped, looked at Stiles with a question in his gaze. When Stiles nodded his approval, Peter relaxed his full weight onto him. Instead of feeling threatened by the fangs, and the eyes, the heavy warmth of the werewolf comforted him, and Stiles let out a sigh as he melted into the mattress.

 

“I think I missed this more than anything else,” he confessed. “Just, touching you. Being near you. I barely got a taste of it before I had to go, but it was enough to start…” He paused, trying to find the right words.

 

“A craving?” Peter offered, rubbing his cheeks against Stiles’, pressing small kisses along his jawline.

 

“Yeah, exactly.” Stiles nipped at Peter’s earlobe, resulting in a half-hearted growl from the wolf holding him in place. “How long can you stay?”

 

“Hmm. I’m tempted to stay all night, but I don’t want to get you in trouble with your father either. I may,” he explained, “have promised to be on my best behavior.”

 

Stiles snorted. “This is your best behavior?”

 

Peter gazed at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m not deflowering you right now, under his very nose, so yes, I do believe this qualifies.”

 

His face burning with embarrassment, Stiles bit his lip to hold in the bark of laughter that wanted to escape. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. But, seeing as you’re here…” In a mirror of Peter’s earlier move, he tilted his chin up, lips slightly parted, and hoped the man would oblige him.

 

Peter sighed across his mouth before taking it in a kiss, sharing breath and touch both. When Peter nipped at his bottom lip, Stiles arched into the sweet pain of it, felt Peter’s hardness pressed against his lower belly, just to the side of his own.

 

He turned his head with a gasp, and Peter latched onto his neck, just below his ear, and _sucked_. Stiles let out a whimper, opened and closed his hands where Peter bound them, then hooked a leg around the man’s hip. He wanted, oh, he _wanted_ , but not yet. Not _there_ , damn it.  

 

“Fuck, fuck, too much, too much!” He groaned, the fluttery feeling in his belly warring with the more insistent need further south.

 

Peter stopped immediately, delivering a few tiny kisses to Stiles’ face before looking in his eyes to check on him. He panted, squeezed where he held Stiles’ wrists, and ran his hands down his arms with light, ticklish movements as he sat up.

 

“No problem darling. Getting back home is going to be interesting though,” he mentioned with a teasing grin. “I hope you have pleasant dreams.” He leaned down for another kiss, this one slow, wet, but not too deep. It was a perfect good night kiss.

 

Stiles hummed, nodded. “I’m pretty sure I will. Sorry,” he felt compelled to add, cheeks warm as he rose up on his elbows, aching with unquenched desire and watching his wolf get ready to leave him.

 

Peter shook his head, grabbed Stiles by the back of the neck, and kissed his forehead. “Don’t be silly, darling boy. There’s no need to apologize.” He nuzzled his nose next to Stiles’, sharing their breath again, intimate and sweet and warming Stiles' heart. “You can always tell me to stop if you need to. And I will. And I assume the same for you.”

 

“Yes, of course,” Stiles replied and trembled. “See you tomorrow?”

 

Peter glanced at the clock as he straightened. “Later today, more like. But yes. I’ll bring dessert.”

 

“Nothing too rich.” The response automatic, Stiles giggled when Peter’s left eyebrow twitched up.

 

“I know the drill by now. I am, after all, one of your spies.” Peter gave a bow that managed to be both regal and sarcastic. “Sweet dreams. Protect the window once I’m out.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear. I know the drill, too. Send me a text when you get home safely.” He tried to smirk, but was afraid it came out much softer than he intended when Peter winked at him and dropped to the ground outside with a quiet thump.

 

He lay back in the bed with a groan. Still hard, still wanting, but that was okay. He could savor the sensation. Stiles reached a hand into his boxers, gave a tentative stroke, and couldn’t help but think that Friday was entirely too far away. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Stiles weren't as sneaky as they thought. The Sheriff goes into work for a few hours. In the meantime, his husband Chris returns home from a hunter conference. He and Stiles may have an emotional moment, but Stiles is perfectly willing to blame it on the onions.

Stiles snorted, bit his lip, then tossed the phone onto his bed and stretched. “Dad!” He wandered down the stairs, grabbed milk from the fridge, checked the oven really fast. “You’re going into work? Today?”

 

“What?” John adjusted his belt and glanced over. “Oh, yeah, just for a couple hours. I’ll be back at,” he checks his watch, “one or so. Chris should be on his way back by now too.”

 

“Where’d he go?” Stiles chugs the milk straight from the container, relishing the cool rush into his stomach.

 

“Conference for hunters. Most of ‘em have time off their regular jobs around this time of year. But he wanted to be here for Thanksgiving, after everything.” He frowns at the ground, checks his holster, then looks up again.

 

They don’t have to talk about what ‘everything’ was. They knew, and Stiles swallowed back tears. “Yeah. Okay, well, I’m not going anywhere. Peter’s bringing dessert.”

 

“Good. Hopefully it’s rich and comes with whipped cream that’s not fat free.” He cupped a hand around Stiles's nape, pressed a kiss to his forehead, then gave a couple of pats to the back of his head. “Behave, you.”

 

Stiles held a hand to his chest. “You think you have to tell me that?”

 

“Yes!” John shouted as he swung the door shut behind him. Stiles listened as the patrol car revved, then the sound faded. The scent of the turkey surrounded him, and he decided to go ahead and start on the stuffing.

 

Okay, after he bugged Peter again, because why the heck not.

 

A blush still stung his cheeks as he finished packing the raw stuffing into the pan. He was rinsing the damp bread and assorted veggies from his hands when he heard the front door open. “Hey, welcome back!” He slid the pan onto the other shelf in the oven.

 

“Hey squirt,” Chris responded. “I see your skills in the kitchen haven’t suffered at all from your stint in college.”

 

“Yeah, it was a debate between culinary school and a psychology degree with criminology minor.” Stiles flicked the water from his free hand at Chris, who squinted at him as he picked up an apple from the bowl on the counter.

 

“You can always go back for culinary school,” Chris pointed out before crunching into the fruit.

 

Stiles shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. If I feel like it. This is enough for now. It’s interesting, but the non-core courses are killing me. Anyway. You keeping Dad on his diet?”

 

Chris smirked. “Yes, Stiles. We have the one-day cheat system per week where he can have pizza or steak or whatever he wants, but I,” he pauses, and Stiles tries not to notice the blush creeping across his face, “convince him to eat a salad anyway.”

 

“We’re gonna let him have full fat whipped cream on the pie Peter’s bringing, but I’ll give him a hard time about it anyway.” Stiles grabbed an apple too, since it seemed like a good idea.

 

“I think he’d feel cheated if you didn’t. So Peter’s coming tonight?” With a smoothness Stiles envied, the hunter tossed his apple core over his shoulder and into the garbage can.

 

“How the hell do you do that? Every time? And yes, he is.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“Hm. Garbage can is in the same place, every day. Practice. Oh, I got a call from John this morning saying we had a visitor last night. That won’t be happening again tonight, will it?” Chris smirked, and Stiles made a face at him.

 

“Probably not. It’s not like anything too much happened, you know. And I am an adult, but I respect Dad’s rules too. It’s his house. Well, your house too now.” He shook his head and rubbed his hands on his thighs.

 

“Stiles, this will always be your home too. But,” he added, “I’m glad you’re so respectful of John. I’m glad you’re the kind of son you are.” He ruffled Stiles’ hair, and Stiles wasn’t crying, nope, it was the onions. That were cooking in the stuffing. Yeah.

 

He sniffled. “Okay, well, Dad’ll be home about one, he said, and the turkey will be ready a couple hours after that. Then we’ll eat. Sound okay?”

 

“Yep. I wasn’t kidding about culinary school, kid, you’re good at this.” He laid his gun on the kitchen table, and Stiles made a noise.   
  


“Uh-uh, nope, do that in the living room. No weapons in the kitchen or dining area on major American holidays, that’s the rule.” Stiles poked a finger into Chris’ ribs as he passed by.

 

“Fine!” The man huffed, but he sounded more amused than annoyed, so Stiles counted that a win and decided to do homework while he waited for his Dad to get home.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has arrived for turkey, and Peter arrives with dessert. Also, apparently Chris and John get down and dirty in the kitchen at night. Sometimes. Perhaps.

When he heard the thudding boom-boom-boom at the front door, Stiles flew down the stairs and swung it open to see Peter there, hands full. He snagged Peter by the nape and pulled him into a kiss.

 

The man grunted, but kissed him back, arms held out to the side until suddenly they clasped around Stiles, groping his ass quickly before resting his hands just at the small of his back. Their mouths slid together like puzzle pieces, a perfect fit.

 

“Okay, okay, come on you guys, that’s enough.” Chris stood there, two insulated bags held one in each hand.

 

Stiles pulled away with a wet noise and a whimper. He bit his lip, then slanted a glance at Chris. “I’ll remember this next time I walk in on you and Dad making out. On the kitchen counter, no less! That is a sight that I didn’t need, Stepfather.”

 

Chris shrugged. “You come into the kitchen at three in the morning, you take your chances. At least we were both wearing boxers. That time.” He cleared his throat and turned to deposit the bags in the kitchen.

 

Stiles shuddered and leaned back when Peter’s hands came down on his shoulders. “Okay, way more than I needed to know. I thank you for wearing boxers when I’m home. Now, pie! Back to pie! What kind are they?”

 

Stiles wandered over to poke at the bags, the heat of Peter’s body pressed against his side.

 

“One pumpkin pie,  and one pecan pie. The pecan’s my great grandmother’s recipe, so you will all enjoy that, I’m sure.” Peter cocked a brow and skimmed over Stiles’ spine with ticklish fingers.

 

Stiles nodded. “Yes, definitely. Dad, no whipped cream.” He stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned to Peter. “So, you bake too? All these things I’m learning about your domestic skills.”

 

Peter snorted, rolled his eyes, but the blush on his cheeks gave him away. “ Yes, I can follow recipes. Doesn’t take a genius. As for the whipped cream, that is far from fair. Especially since I made a bourbon whipped cream.”

 

“You,” Stiles poked him in the chest, “are a traitor. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

 

“Nope,” John responded, with a pop at the end of the word, “he’s smart. Very smart. Now, are we gonna eat, or what?”

 

“Yeah, we are. Turkey’s resting, ready for carving and for Peter to carry it to the table. Hey, Peter? How do werewolf claws work on carving turkey?”

 

Peter heaved a sigh. “No, Stiles. Not unless you want shredded turkey.”

  
“Hm. I’ll have to think about that for leftovers though.” Stiles winked and aimed finger guns at Peter, then gestured wide with a dramatic flair at the turkey. “Now, convey the bird to the table, and let’s get to it!” 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dinner, Stiles texts his bro Scott to say happy holidays. Peter gets invited to a family cuddle pile where verbal shenanigans ensue surrounding John's diet. And Stiles is overwhelmed by the feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry it's taking me a little longer to crank these out. Work and anxiety issues combined forces recently, which definitely gets in the way of creativity. Updates may be a little slower is all. <3 Thanks for understanding.

Stiles groaned, pocketed his phone, and flopped down next to his Dad on the couch. “Soooo fullllll.” He rubbed his slightly distended belly with care.

 

John grunted, wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulder to pull him close, and leaned his head back onto Chris’ chest. Peter stood just beyond the room, watching, almost oddly still, like he wasn’t quite sure where he fit in.

 

Stiles waved him over with lazy flops of his hand. “C’mon over, squishy wolf. Join the cuddle pile.” He looked at their positions. “Line. Whatever this is.”

 

Peter glanced down, eyes a little shiny, and made his way around the coffee table to perch next to Stiles, who reeled him in hard. “Oof! Maybe not the best idea to pull you that hard, but you’re warm and comfy and I’m really full and did I mention this was comfortable? You’re like a nice, wolfy blanket.”

 

Stiles rambled on as Chris fiddled with the remote, then stopped himself abruptly. “What’re we watching? Also, Dad, you’re having salads for the next several months to make up for _three_ pieces of that pie.”

 

“Hey!” John pointed at nothing in particular, then poked Stiles in the side. “I only had two.”

 

“Yeah, two of the pumpkin. And two of the pecan,” Chris muttered, a thread of amusement running through his tone.

 

“ _Two_ of the pecan?” Stiles gasped, pulled away to look at his Dad, or tried to. It was really awkward when Peter was now resting most of his upper body against Stiles. “How? How did you sneak two?”

 

Peter cleared his throat, and Stiles looked down at him. “You?! You betrayed me?”

 

The werewolf put on an innocent expression, but his eyes danced with mirth. “It was...for the greater good?”

 

“No, no, he was allowed one piece of each pie. A _small_ piece. Okay, Dad, the full year. Salads. Radishes. Peppe--” Stiles tried to continue listing, but Chris reached over to cover his still moving mouth, “rff, hnn GRIFF!”

 

Chris snorted. “He had peppers last month. I’m sure we’ll do something interesting with whatever this month is.”

 

“Zucchini,” Peter volunteered, a smirk flirting at the edge of his mouth. “I guess you guys will do something interesting with that, one way or another.”

 

“Ugh, Peter, no. Nope, not allowed to make those comments.” Stiles slid a hand over the wolf’s mouth, only to yelp when it was licked. “Eww, dude. No. Bad dog.”

 

Peter snapped his teeth at him with a predatory grin, eyes glowing fierce blue. “I can bite like a bad dog too, Stiles.”

 

“I wouldn’t test him on that. I also may have worn out the dog joke welcome.” John flipped his hand over in a so-so motion. “A little.”

 

Stiles pouted. “That is so unfair, Dad, how could you make that many?”

 

“Hey, I know things!” John protested laughingly.

 

Chris cleared his throat. “I might have helped a little.”

 

“Ugh, no wonder. You would know all the dog jokes, wouldn’t you?” Stiles accused, and when Chris flipped him off, he returned the salute until John pushed their hands out of his face with a roll of his eyes.

 

Peter stroked Stiles’ belly until he wiggled, uncomfortably pleasant heat thrumming through his system. Peter seemed to notice, and in a smooth movement slid their hands together and twined their fingers with a squeeze.

 

Then he shrugged, and said, “I’m sure you’ll find other ways to be a little asshole, Stiles. It’s a skill you possess in spades.”

 

Stiles sputtered out a laugh, and buried his face against Peter’s hair, breathing in the musky scent of him. “Yeah, I’m sure I will. I mean, with such inspiration, how can I resist?”

 

A couple hours in the cuddle pile and one fluffy holiday TV movie later -- “Christmas movies already? They don’t even wait for Thanksgiving to be over anymore,” John complained at the beginning. -- Stiles stood on the porch with Peter, arms clutched around his neck.

 

“And again, I’m not spending the night with you because…” Stiles trailed off with a sigh. He knew, they both knew, but Peter obliged him anyway.

 

Peter tugged him closer, bent a little until they pressed flush, chest to thighs. “Because you want to spend time with your Dad, and he wants time with you. Plus you’re going to run over to Scott’s tonight for a bit. You’ll be with me tomorrow. Sometime.”

 

“Dad goes to work in the late afternoon, about five. You gonna pick me up?” Stiles nuzzled into his neck, not denying any of what he said.

 

“Yeah, of course. Make sure you have your stuff together. I’ll be taking you to the airport Sunday.” Peter pressed a kiss to Stiles forehead, traced the edges of his shoulder blades until Stiles shivered.

 

He shook his head. He didn’t want to go back, to leave. He really hadn’t had enough time with Peter, not nearly. Was he being too clingy? Too intense? Too...much, like always?

 

“Tell me what’s going through that head to make you smell this upset,” Peter requested, voice soft next to Stiles’ ear.

 

“No, nothing, I just--” Stiles broke off, kept his face hidden.

 

“You can tell me things. I’m not likely to run away from much,” Peter pointed out in a near-whisper.

 

“Feeling kinda out at sea here, man.” Stiles mumbled the confession into the soft material of Peter’s v-neck. “Lots of feelings in the sea, and me here in this little boat.”

 

Peter chuckled, the vibration of it soothing. “Not alone in your little boat, Stiles.”

 

He built up his courage, as much as he could, and pulled back so he could look into Peter’s eyes. “No?”

 

“No.” He said it with such assurance, Stiles couldn’t help but believe him.

  
The corners of his eyes crinkled with his slightly crooked smile, and Peter pressed it against Stiles’ forehead in a sweet, affectionate kiss. Relief and warmth filled him, and he let Peter cradle him in the quiet of the night for a few minutes more. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles lets his Dad know when he arrives safely at Peter's apartment. Stiles is still figuring out what he's ready for. Lord of the Rings and homemade pizza? Check! Anything else? Well, communication ensues, as well as sexy-times after some slight awkwardness. Because this is Stiles, and he has skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Mysenia for being a complete sweetheart and looking this over for me. <3 
> 
> My thanks to all of you guys for being patient as I work my way through. Y'all rock my socks.

Stiles shouldered his bag and bit his lip as he followed Peter up the stairs to the apartment he shared with Derek. Come to think of it… “Peter, is Derek going to be here too? I don’t want to traumatize him. Well, too much.”

 

“He went to spend the holiday with Cora.” Peter paused on the stairs, cleared his throat. “To try to convince her to come back for Christmas.”

 

Stiles reached him, touched the tense muscles of his back with a cautious hand. “Sounds good. And hey, at least if we’re noisy we don’t have to deal with his constant complaining and brooding.”

 

Peter snorted and opened his door, beckoning Stiles in with a dramatic wave of his arm. “My humble abode awaits you,” he intoned.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Stiles shouldered past him and stood in the middle of the living room, fingers tightening around the bag’s strap, loosening, tightening again. “So, where do I put my stuff?”

 

“Well,” Peter began, and ducked his head in a move too sharp to be adorable but somehow managed it anyway, “you could stay in my room, and I can stay on the couch.” He moved closer to Stiles, just a few casual steps in his direction. “Or, you could stay in my room, and I can stay in Derek’s room.”

 

Suddenly he was _right there_ and in Stiles’ space, tilting his chin up with his forefinger and thumb. “Or, you could stay in my room, and I could stay in my room. It’s really up to you, my dear.”

 

Stiles flushed, cleared his throat, met Peter’s patient gaze. “I recall you promising me night time cuddles.”

 

His wolf gave a nod. “And I intend to keep that promise. Maybe even the others, if you’re still up for it.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in a miniscule smile. “In the meantime, how does homemade pizza and Lord of the Rings sound?”

 

Stiles beamed. “You trying to unlock my heart here or something? Or get into my pants?”

 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Peter smirked because he’s an asshole and sauntered to the kitchen. “C’mon, help me knead the dough. Impress me with your hands.”

 

Stiles shook his head. “Oh, I’m sure I can impress you in a variety of ways. I’ll go put this down.” He dropped his bag off in Peter’s bedroom, _their_ bedroom, for his stay. With a deep breath and a glance at the bed, he tried to calm his racing heart. Who knew what would happen.

 

“You coming?” Peter called out.

 

He laughed as his cheeks warmed, glanced at the bed once more. “Yeah, I’m coming squishy wolf.”

 

:: :: :: :: ::

 

He had butterflies. There was still an hour of the movie left. The pizza had been consumed, in addition to a bowl of popcorn. Hey, it was a long movie. And it had sequels. Which they might watch. They’d both changed into comfy clothes, loose shirts and soft pants.

 

“What’re you thinking?” Peter asked into Stiles’ hair where his face pressed. “Your heart’s going nuts and you smell nervous.”

 

“Um, wel--you see, I just--I want, but I don’t really--” Stiles cut off his own babbling and covered his face with both hands. “Make me shut up please.”

 

Peter kissed the back of one hand, then the other. “Talk to me, Stiles.”

 

He hid behind his hands, face heating and voice muffled. “I don’t get how people transition from not-sexy-times to sexy-times with seemingly little effort.”

 

“If what you’re going on is television, that’s rarely true to reality. And while our relationship may not qualify as new anymore, some parts of it will be. I’d rather you ask, or I ask, than have either of us assume and cross a line that we’re not ready for.” Peter peeled his hands away from his face, still burning with humiliation and arousal, more of the former than the latter.

 

“I-kinda-want-to-make-out-with-you-now.” The words rushed out of him, along with his breath. “And maybe--in your lap? Fuck, why is it so much easier to do this in texts and even on the phone?”

 

“Because I see you.” It was so simple, but true. “You hide, behind clothes, behind technology, behind sarcasm.” Peter hauled him into his lap, rested his hands on the outsides of his thighs and rubbed up and down. It thrilled and soothed all at once.

 

Stiles leaned his forehead against Peter’s, met those beautiful blue eyes. “Can’t hide from you.” He poked him in the belly, a smile sneaking out.

 

Peter shook his head, chuckled. “No, you can’t. But that was always one of the things you liked about me.”

 

Stiles hummed his agreement. “Yeah. That and more.” He pressed a kiss to Peter’s mouth, shivered when his claws pricked at Stiles through the thin material of his pants.

 

“What would you like Stiles?” Peter asked between chaste pecks that grew less so with every kiss. “I want to hear you say it out loud.” Another kiss, a wet click as their lips parted again.

 

“Wanna rub on you, while we--” he cut off, Peter’s mouth on his again for a moment, two, before he could continue, “--while we kiss. And if you grab my hips, and make me--,” another kiss, and yet another, losing himself in the taste of Peter just beneath the tomato sauce.

 

“Make you what, dearest?” Mouthing his way across Stiles’ jaw, Peter grabbed his ass, squeezed until Stiles whimpered.

 

“Make me come in my pants. Make us both come.” Stiles panted breathy little moans against his ear, and Peter growled.

 

“What’s the magic word?” He pulled away, just enough to look at Stiles, but started to roll up into him, their cocks lined up for delicious friction with every shift.

 

“Please, Peter, you complete jackass, don’t make me beg.” Stiles darted forward, nipped at Peter’s chin, resulting in a deeper growl. He grinned at the man and gave a little shimmy.

 

“Your wish is my desire,” Peter purred, and he sucked Stiles’ bottom lip into his mouth, scraped with the tip of a sharp fang.

 

Stiles moaned, opened wider and licked at Peter’s mouth, begging with actions if not words as he squirmed atop him. Heat built and pleasure raced like static lightning over his skin. Tongue slid across tongue, slick and hot and so wet that Stiles whined, a high, broken sound as he rocked against Peter, hips held tight and controlled, but the rest of him twitching and eager.

 

He drove his fingers through Peter’s hair, nails against scalp until Peter moaned into his mouth, changed the angle of their kiss, took it even deeper.

 

His chest burned, he needed to breathe, but maybe need was a strong word. He needed Peter, needed the claws pricking against the cheeks of his ass, needed the taste of him in his mouth, the feel of his tongue licking across and under his, drawing him back into Peter’s mouth to delicately flick around sexy, wolfish fangs.

 

Stiles froze in place when Peter’s fingers dipped under the waistband at the small of his back before a fine tremor took him over. He clutched at Peter’s nape, mouth lax as everything narrowed to where two of his fingers slid between his cheeks, just at the top of his pants. Stiles flirted with the idea of asking Peter to go lower.

 

He wanted, oh he _wanted_ , but it wasn’t time yet, not yet. He bucked against Peter, who didn’t move his fingers any further inward, just took his top lip this time, suckling at it while Stiles’ mouth kept gasping for breath, closing in small tiny pulls around Peter’s bottom lip every few seconds.

 

When Peter adjusted his thrusts the tiniest bit, Stiles didn’t even _know_ , all he knew was that he went from swimming in pleasure to absolutely drowning in it.

 

He tore his mouth from their kiss, gasped out, “Peter! Fuck, _Peter!_ ”

 

All of the tingles and sparks of electricity coalesced at the base of his spine, and then up and out in heated spurts between them as he shook apart in Peter’s arms.

 

When he could pry his eyes open, Peter wolfed out. His eyes glowed, his fangs fully extended, he looked inches away from eating Stiles alive. More shivers worked their way through him, and he undulated over his wolf, lazy movements of his hips that Peter allowed, grip still tight, hands moving with him.

 

“Please, Peter,” Stiles whispered, and dipped down to kiss him, slow and careful. Peter trembled under him with the force it took to stay still. “Wanna see you too. You saw me.” He trailed his lips softly across Peter’s jaw. “Covered you in my scent.”

 

“You little incubus, how you tempt me,” Peter grunted, worked Stiles’ malleable body over him. Stiles rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, let it loll there before he licked away the beads of sweat from Peter’s skin.

 

The shudder that resulted gave him a new idea, and Stiles sank his teeth into the curve where Peter’s neck met his shoulder, and the wolf howled beneath him as he came, adding his own wet heat to their mess.

 

They curled together in a panting heap against the corner of the couch, and Peter turned his head to trade gentle kisses with Stiles. “I think our sexy-times went rather well.”

 

Stiles snorted out a laugh, rubbed his cheek against Peter’s. “Yeah, no fucking kidding. I’m really glad we waited until we had space and alone time. This felt good.” He pressed an affectionate kiss to his collarbone, his chin, his nose, until Peter giggled.

 

“Was that? Was that a giggle?” Stiles crawled his fingers against Peter’s belly until the man shook with laughter.

 

“Yes! Yes, okay? Are you happy? I admit it!” Peter held his hands up.

 

“Yeah, squishy wolf. I’m really, really happy. And in need of a shower.” Stiles bit his lip. “I. Um. I kind of want to shower with you, but I also kind of feel weird about being naked. Yet.” He chewed on his lip now, waited for things to get weird.

 

Peter pried his lip from his teeth, thumbed the swollen bit of flesh. “Whatever you want darling. A shower can just be a shower. I know we just had some very hot frottage, but the shower can be whatever you want it to be, just us cleaning each other, or ourselves together. Or, you can shower first, and then I’ll go, and we’ll rewind the movie to finish it.”

 

“You don’t rewind DVDs, man. But. Maybe I’ll shower first?” He peered at Peter, watching for any sign of resentment. It felt silly, given what they’d just done, but. But. He didn’t know, he just couldn’t do it yet.

 

“Of course.” Peter cupped the back of his head, drew him into a sumptuous kiss before releasing him. “Leave your pants in the hamper, and there are towels in there for us already.”

 

“Thanks.” Stiles stood, paused, then bent over the couch and pressed his lips to Peter’s forehead, held them there as relief and joy washed over him. “Thank you.”

 

“Go clean up, beautiful boy,” Peter whispered, touched a fingertip to Stiles’ cheek.

 

“‘kay.” He made himself walk away, and it was hard, because all he wanted was to be in Peter’s arms again, held safe against the world, safe against his own feelings. Oh well, he’d cover himself in the scent of Peter’s soap and drape himself over the man for the rest of the movie.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A text to Lydia helps clear some things up for Stiles. After their showers, Peter and Stiles have a talk that soon turns to more serious matters. And then some making out, because why not?

Stiles curled under the covers in a loose Henley and pajama bottoms, and slid his phone onto the bedside table closest to him. He double checked the pillow, made sure his knitted sigil was inside of the pillowcase.

 

A minute later, Peter walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel over his head. He wore only a very thin pair of pajama bottoms himself.

 

Fuck he was built. Stiles knew that, of course, but seeing him shirtless really brought it home, and that vee at his hips, those delicious hollows...he wanted to trace those with his tongue. He squirmed, a slight buzz under his skin made up of desire and admiration and a little discomfort.

 

When Peter walked over to the dresser, Stiles made a noise in his throat. The other man turned to look at him with a raised brow, and Stiles shrugged.

 

“I--you don’t have to--you’re good, like that.” He waved a hand up and down in Peter’s direction.

 

Peter grinned. “Okay, good to know.” He turned off the lights and slid into the bed next to Stiles. They mirrored each other, faces mere inches apart, almost but not quite touching yet at any given point on their bodies.

 

“Thanks. For, you know. Being good about me needing time,” Stiles whispered.

 

“Absolutely, my darling. I wouldn’t want you to do more than you were comfortable with, not ever.” Peter spoke in a low, comforting tone and Stiles moved closer, until he could tuck himself against his lover.

 

“I can’t exactly give you a timetable,” Stiles confessed. It was so much easier in the darkness, to give Peter access to his thoughts.

 

“I don’t need one. I’m perfectly happy with what we’ve chosen to do together.” Soft lips pressed to Stiles’ forehead.

 

“Really?” While he’s grateful for Peter’s patience, he’s reluctant to believe the claim of contentment.

 

“Mm-hmm. I’ve chosen you. You are who I want to be with. All of you, not your cock, or your ass, or your mouth. Well, maybe your mouth, but more for what comes out of it than what goes into it.” Peter chuckled, and Stiles tickled his belly.

 

Once they’d settled down again, Stiles asked, “Is it a werewolf thing?” and he felt Peter’s shrug.

 

“I guess it could be. I’ve never not been a werewolf though, but I imagine there are humans who are accommodating to their mates as well. I mean, insofar as there exist human-to-human mate bonds.” He made a noise in his throat, like he was making a note to himself.

 

Stiles was kind of amused that he knew what that noise meant. Then he paused. “Wait. Mate bonds?”

 

Peter stiffened, not a lot, but enough that Stiles took note. “I. Well. Yes. Werewolves form mate bonds.”

 

“And you--we--we’re doing that? Have done that?” He jerked back to squint up at him.

 

“We’re...it’s a process that involves choice on both sides. So we haven’t yet, no, but we may. If you’re amenable at a later date.” Peter tugged at Stiles, tucked him under his chin again.

 

Stiles cleared his throat, felt the blush heat his skin. “I might be amenable to...starting the process. Sooner than later?”

 

“I think it’ll start with your conscious approval. Which. You’ve given just now, I’m guessing.” A kiss brushed over his cheek, another to the corner of his mouth, and then Peter deposited a chaste peck to Stiles’ lips.

 

“Yes, definite approval over here. What will change? I mean, will anything have to change?” Stiles asked around the small, potent caresses.

 

“There is no physical requirement. Or emotional really, you’re not forced to feel a certain way, but our mate bond will grow with our relationship. You may be able to sense my emotions, my physical well-being, but that’s usually a more advanced stage. Distance won’t be easier, but we’ll feel each other’s presence more acutely,” Peter explained, his fingers tap-tap-tapping along Stiles’ ribs as he spoke.

 

“I think I’d like that. Feeling you. I mean, you’re already in my heart, metaphorically. Having that be literal would be pretty cool.” Stiles’ throat went dry when he realized what he said. “Um, I mean. You know.”

 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Peter soothed him, rocked them both a little in the bed. “You’re in my heart too, my darling. Or did you think I’d go to the trouble of knitting for someone I didn’t care about?”

 

Stiles snorted. “Hey, that would be a very beneficial pack bonding method. Knitting circles for werewolves and other supernatural creatures. Hey, it’s been shown to be as effective as meditation, so...maybe we should start one.”

 

“Hm. Yeah. Derek will probably lobby to add crochet to it. Let’s see that happen.” Peter sighed and nuzzled his nose along Stiles’, tempting him with little pecks against his mouth that didn’t seem to go anywhere.

 

Until those pecks turned into another kind of kiss, deeper, hotter. Peter licked at Stiles’ bottom lip, a scorching temptation that Stiles couldn’t resist. He opened, suckled on the tip, teased it with his own tongue. Shivered when Peter growled, the sound traveling into Stiles and down his throat in a heady vibration.

 

Stiles tilted back, drew Peter with him until the other man covered him like a warm blanket, and when Peter broke their kiss, Stiles lifted his face to keep it going.

 

Peter didn’t object, and framed Stiles’ face with his large hands. Every rough stroke from those calloused fingers along his cheeks, just under his ears, at the hinge of his jaw, prompted a whimper from Stiles.

 

He drowned in the headiness of his desire for this man. They rubbed against each other, a slow, eager rocking that brought their hard cocks together, separated only by thin material. Stiles ran his hands up and down Peter’s back, tracing all those flexing muscles, but stopping at the boundary his pants created.

 

Time grew hazy, the kisses lush and unhurried. When they paused for breath, Stiles whispered in a hoarse rush, “I really, really love you, you know.”

 

The darkness swallowed his words, but then Peter’s eyes lit up, burning blue and passionate. “I know.”

 

When Peter’s kiss swollen lips quirked up in a smirk, Stiles snorted and shook his head, let it thump back into the pillow. “Using a Star Wars reference against me. You’re such a jackass.”

 

“I know that too.” Peter stole another kiss, this one lighter than the last, their mouths clinging for only a few moments. “I love you too, Stiles.”

 

He moved to the side, but turned Stiles so that they faced each other again, hands and feet tangled. Desire simmered between them, and Stiles cupped the back of Peter’s neck to draw him in again, lips sliding together, pulling apart with a wet click, and coming together again.

 

A little more awkward, but it was a position wasn’t as likely to turn into more than Stiles could handle. He scratched Peter’s nape gently, and retreated to his own pillow.

 

“Gonna have some sweet dreams there, squishy wolf?” he teased, with a squeeze of his fingers that made Peter close his eyes and shiver.

 

Peter swallowed hard, grabbed Stiles’ hand from his neck, and pressed it to his cheek. “Oh yes. Definitely. You will too, darling boy.” He ran his thumb over Stiles’ forehead, and said with more than a little power in his voice, “Only good dreams.”

 

“Mm, yeah. I brought the dream thing you knit me too. It’s in the pillow.” Stiles tugged Peter closer, and settled down when the older wolf threw a leg over his. He turned more onto his belly, but kept facing Peter.

 

The last thought he had as his eyes drifted shut was how good it felt to be nestled against the man he loved.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles decides to move past some of his fears. Peter tries to help by doling out some honest compliments...and the heart-stopping sexiness certainly doesn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there guys! I sure hope you enjoy this update, as I had a great time writing it! Many thanks to Cutie for looking it over for me, pre-posting, and for listening to me freak out over it for the last two (or three) weeks. Min skatt, you are the best! <3

Stiles woke to the subtle beep of his phone. He rolled over, noticed the lack of Peter next to him, and groped for the irritating noise. When he swiped the lock screen off, a text from Lydia waited, flashing impatiently. He opened it.

 

 

He grimaced at the screen, let his hand fall to the bed with a quiet thud, and heaved a sigh. She was right, on a few levels. And damn it, did she know how to hit him where it counted.

 

The sound of the shower turning on and Peter puttering around the bathroom drew his attention. The clack of a toothbrush returning to a cup, then the thunk of the door. He debated with himself.

 

It’s not like he hadn’t _wanted_ to shower with Peter the night before. He had. He just...naked. Vulnerable. And really, he was a pale, skinny, sarcastic, research nerd. Not terrible looking or anything, but. How could he compare to Mr. Muscles in there?  

 

He couldn’t, and Stiles resolved not to try. He had to get over this, and not for Peter’s sake. Peter seemed to have the patience of a saint, which was truly ironic.

 

He crept over to the bathroom door and knocked lightly. “Care for some company in there?”

 

“Come on in,” Peter called over the water. “You caught me just in time.”

 

Stiles entered and glanced away as he took care of brushing his own teeth. When he'd finished, he turned and saw Peter standing there about as awkwardly as he ever had, a towel held strategically over his groin and a concerned look on his face. Stiles gave a tremulous smile and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, slowly pulling it up. It was time to get this show on the road, and he didn't want his nerves to get the best of him. Again. 

 

Peter started forward, hands out flat as he shook his head. “You don’t hav--”

 

“I do,” Stiles interrupted. “I want to do this. Not saying that I’m not nervous about it. I mean, you’re all,” he gestured at Peter, “and I’m all,” he waved a hand at himself, “but I really want to.”

 

“Are you sure?” Peter kept his gaze on Stiles’ face.

 

“Yeah. You’ve been awesome at accepting my limits, my boundaries. My no. And I've always been honest with you about that. Please just, accept that my yes means yes. I’m glad you asked, but let me have this,” he pleaded. Peter nodded, a little hesitant, but his eyes took on a glint of interest.

 

Stiles whipped his shirt off and let it fall to the ground. He pushed his pants down until they pooled around his ankles, stepped out of them. He tried not to think about it, tried to just take deep breaths and get into the shower.

 

Peter followed him into the hot spray, a warm presence at his back. “Can I touch you?”

 

Stiles gulped but nodded. “Yeah, just. Take it slow, please?”

 

“Sure, that’s fine. I just want to hold you. Maybe wash your back and hair.” He stepped close, closer, until they were flush. “Maybe kiss under the spray. Corny, I know, but it’s a...fantasy, I suppose.”

 

With a small smile, Stiles turned and peered up through wet eyelashes. “Feel free to kiss me as much as you like.”

 

Peter tilted his face and slotted their mouths together, taking Stiles down into a slow, blissful embrace. Butterflies took flight in his belly, and he settled his hands on Peter’s hips, letting his thumbs brush over the soft skin there.

 

Peter drew back and licked his lips. “Thank you, darling. May I wash you now?”

 

Now that they weren’t kissing, all the thoughts that liked to invade his brain leapt to the forefront. He folded his arms and nodded while Peter lathered up his hands. “Y-yeah, sure.”

 

“Are you--” Peter cut himself off with a sigh. “Stiles, come here please, and talk to me. I know you want to do this, but I don’t want this to be a bad memory either.”

 

“It’s not--bad, I just don’t get what about all of this,” he gestured to himself, “attracts you. And now I’m naked. And calling attention to it all. So good. Much smart,” Stiles hissed as he squeezed his eyes shut, and jumped a little when soapy hands landed on his shoulders.

 

“You are so beautiful,” the werewolf whispered into his ear, “and it drives me crazy that you don’t see it.”

 

Stiles, already shaking his head, struggled against the prickle of tears behind his eyes. “Dude, you need to get your eyes checked.”

 

“Your beauty is far more than skin deep, and what interests me is more than your body, but trust me when I say that your body is very alluring.” The last word made Stiles shiver, delivered in a low, growling voice.

 

Peter’s slick hands ran across his shoulders and squeezed, and some of the tension there bled away. “These shoulders are so strong. You hold the weight of the supernatural world sometimes, but you carry it well. And these arms,” his hands traveled with his words, flexing and hot, “are long, lean, and hold me close. They make me feel like I’m home, no matter what. They also flail adorably when you’re surprised.”

 

Peter pressed against his back, the man’s hard, wet body sliding against Stiles as he moved next to his chest. “And here, beats the heart of a brave, loyal man. Traits I appreciate. And you have a gorgeous chest, lean and muscled.” His fingers brushed over Stiles’ nipples, sending delicious tingles across his skin.

 

“Your belly is well toned, but still a soft place to rest my head. And this,” he scratched gently across Stiles’ treasure trail, and his half-hard dick jerked towards Peter’s hand as his head fell back against the werewolf’s shoulder, “is so tempting whenever I catch a glimpse. When you stretch, and your shirt rides up…”

 

Stiles fought not to whimper and bit his lip to keep the noise in.

 

It didn’t work. “And this, right here, every time you bite this lip,” he paused, then tugged on it until Stiles let it slide from between his teeth, swollen and a little sore, “makes me want to grab you and take your mouth until you’re breathless.”

 

He lowered his voice. “And do I need to talk about your ass?” Peter’s fingertips danced across the flesh there, and Stiles clenched as his breath left him in a rush. “Because it’s perfect. I want to bite it. Mark it. Slide my tongue, and my fingers, and my cock between your cheeks.”

 

With a chuckle, he kept on, undoubtedly able to hear Stiles’ racing heartbeat. “Speaking of, your cock is beautiful. I’m glad that I finally get to see it.” He ghosted his palm just over it, not quite touching. It was torture. “Look at how hard it is, flushed and dripping. Want me to stroke you, baby?”

 

Stiles choked out, “Please!” and thrust against Peter’s hand. “Of course, my darling, you need only ask me. Anything you wish.”

 

“Touch me, please touch me,” Stiles gasped, and then keened when Peter started slowly jacking him off.

 

The world around him melted into a susurrus of warm water and affectionate words raining across him, telling him how beautiful and sexy he was, how much Peter wanted to see him lost to pleasure. He vaguely noted the hardness pressed against his backside, his body undulating against it as Peter held him safe and secure.

 

His orgasm crashed over him like a wave, and he cried out against the firm edge of Peter’s jaw, letting his teeth graze over the skin there. As he recovered, Peter lifted his cum-covered fingers to lick them clean.

 

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles breathed, because that was hot. So hot. And he wanted to return the favor, so he twisted until he faced Peter, and asked, “May I--Can I jack you off?” His fingers twitched just out of reach. Peter was thicker than he was, uncut, and his cock was a ruddier color, more brown and less pink.

 

“Yeah, sweet boy, do whatever you like to me.” Peter moaned and Stiles pulled him into a kiss even as he took the man in hand for the first time. The slide of his foreskin fascinated Stiles, so he played with it and knelt down for a better view.

 

That and the fact that Peter legit blushed when Stiles sank to his knees, his hands splayed against the tile walls of the shower, claws scraping against the grout.

 

Precum leaked from the tip, and Stiles took a curious lick, made a little face. A little salty, quite bitter, but not terrible. Less sweet than his, but he could deal with that. After another taste, he decided he could get used to it. Eventually. For now, he loved watching the bright pink head of Peter’s dick get covered and uncovered by his foreskin, and that the man hadn’t stopped trembling.

 

When Stiles looked up, Peter’s eyes were werewolf blue, his fangs were extended, and he seemed to be trying not to break the wall. Stiles sped up his strokes, watched with fascination as Peter’s abs clenched, as he curled over Stiles, and the shaft in his hand thickened and jerked as cum pulsed out over Stiles’ hand.

 

He kept it up until Peter was spent and slumped against the wall, then waited for him to open his eyes again. When he did, Stiles licked at one shining finger and grinned up at his wolf when he whimpered.

 

“That was fun. I’m glad we did this. Though, I thought the purpose of showers were to get clean.” He held his sticky hand under the slightly cooler water. “I think we did it wrong.”

 

Peter chuckled. “No, we did it perfectly. Besides, I already got you soaped up and somewhat rinsed off.”

 

“Then I suppose we can work on you now.” Stiles held his hand out for the soap, lathered up, and took great pleasure in tracing Peter’s muscles as he cleaned the man.

 

“Pretty sure you already worked on me.” After a few more minutes of actually using the shower for its intended purpose, Peter bundled Stiles into a towel and herded him back to the room.

 

“What do you want for…breakfast? Lunch? Whichever, I’m sure it can count for both.” Peter slithered into sweatpants that hung entirely too low for Stiles’ attention span while he tripped into some light sweats and stole one of Peter’s shirts.

 

“Make me waffles,” Stiles ordered with an imperious wave of his hand.

 

The werewolf huffed out a laugh. “Of course, my darling. Your wish.”

 

Breakfast involved buttery waffles and entirely too much syrup, and then Peter licking his way around, but not into, Stiles’ mouth. Purely to clean the sticky sweet maple off, of course.

 

It was during the dishes that Stiles asked, “When do I get to see your magical knitting needles, dude? That sleep thing has been incredible. Some days a little _too_ incredible, and I might have traumatized my roommate a little.”

 

Peter shrugged. “Whenever you like. Anything else you need? I could probably whip up something simple before you leave tomorrow.”

 

Stiles gulped, and it felt like his belly was filling with rocks. “Um, it can get kinda cold in the dorms. Can you do socks?”

 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll put some warming runes into them, too.” Peter dried his hands, tossed the towel into Stiles’ face, and snickered when Stiles stuck his tongue out at him.

 

“Thanks, Peter. I’m sure I’ll love them. We going to finish watching the Lord of the Rings?” Stiles put on his most pleading expression.

 

“I figured we would. I can knit and watch at the same time. Besides, it’ll be good to just spend some time together.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ cheek and went into a square, wicker basket next to the bookshelves.

 

Once they’d gotten into position, Peter with his needles and some soft gray yarn, Stiles ensconced in the opposite corner, he felt this odd warmth in his chest. It tingled down to his fingertips and soothed the cold unease about his pending departure on Sunday.

 

He decided not to question it, and let the _click-click_ of the needles and the beautiful lyricism of Elvish relax him. And if he played with the yarn ball between his feet, well, Peter didn’t exactly glare at him.

 

He just heaved a sigh and shook his head, and the gentle heat that throbbed within Stiles flared briefly before settling again like a banked fire beneath his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come flail with me about Steter or any ol' thing, really, on [Tumblr](http://denaceleste.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/denaceleste)!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of domesticity before the reality of his impending departure knocks Stiles off balance. Peter is there to comfort and support. And knit socks, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuhhh, hi everyone! 
> 
> I...am really sorry that it's been a year and a freakin' half since the last update. My muse was NOT cooperating with me on this story except in fits and spurts until about...yesterday. Or so. XD 
> 
> But here it is! Chapter 29! I hope you guys enjoy this! (And hey, maybe we could consider this extended hiatus of my muse an extension of Stiles and Peter's time together... yes? Yes. Good. ;) )

Stiles stretched, then let out a long groan when Peter reached out to stroke a rough hand up his torso, making it feel even better. He melted into the couch. “Mmph, that was good. So good. Best movie ever. Sequel next?” 

  


Peter patted his leg. “First the sock. Try this on.” He slid the multi-colored monstrosity onto Stiles’ left foot. 

  


“Oooh, that’s soft. So soft. Holy shit, there’s, like, a subtle rainbow in that gray! The colors match nothing and everything I own, at the same time, but that doesn’t matter. I will wear these always,” Stiles said with no small amount of passion. “Preciousssss.” 

  


Laughing, Peter tugged the sock off. “Gotta have more than the toe on the other one, and then you’ll have a set. But before I do that, I think we should start preparing dinner.” 

  


“But it’s only--” Stiles broke off, looked around, and swore. “Where’s my phone?” 

  


“I think you left it in the room?” Peter offered with a shrug. “And it’s about half past six.” 

  


“Ah. I forgot we were watching the extended edition.” Stiles rubbed the back of his head and took note of the empty gurgle in his belly. “Okay, what’s for dinner?” 

  


“Well, I can do steak or chicken picatta. Which would you rather?” Peter carefully stashed his project in the basket. 

  


“Pasta pasta pasta pasta,” Stiles chanted, and clapped his hands. “Need help?” 

  


“You can put water on to boil,” Peter allowed. “And then go get your phone.” 

  


Stiles side-eyed him. 

  


“I can see the way your fingers are twitching. Go check your email or texts or what-have-you.” Peter waved an imperious hand, and then continued on in dramatic fashion. “I will go and slave over a hot stove for crumbs of your attention.” 

  


Stiles pounced on him, grateful for werewolf strength when Peter caught him with ease, and peppered his face with loud, smacking kisses. “How’s” --kiss-- “this” --kiss-- “for” --kiss-- “crumbs?” 

  


“Okay, okay!” Peter pretended to protest, smile wide and mischievous. “More like croutons, then.” 

  


Stiles made an affronted noise, but was soon distracted by Peter’s tongue curling into his mouth. “Mmm.” 

  


“Guess I’ll have to do that every time.” He gave a squeeze to Stiles’ butt cheeks, and Stiles shivered, arousal zinging across his skin. “I see. I’ll make a note of that as well. Now, go; water, then phone.” 

  


Despite his words, he set Stiles down carefully. Stiles did his part for the pasta, and then retreated to the room. Not before giving Peter’s ass a quick pinch as well. 

  


It was there. And so tempting and...well. Who could resist? 

  


Stiles looked around. His phone wasn’t on the bedside table. Had he left it there? He could’ve sworn he had. Ugh, who could remember things? 

  


“Babe, could you call me?” Stiles asked, padding back into the kitchen. “Or, since your hands are busy--” he gulped when Peter gave him a look, hands full of raw chicken breasts-- “can I use your phone to call me?” 

  


“Yeah, sure. It’s...probably on the charger.” Peter shrugged. “What’s mine is yours.” 

  


“We’re not married yet, you know,” Stiles quipped, and then he froze. “Uh, I mean, I’m--just going to go find the phones.” 

  


Peter’s laughter followed him as he walked away, cheeks warming almost as much as his heart. He swiped Peter’s phone, and did a double-take when he found his name in the list. 

  


“Peter...why am I listed as your ‘Tasty Cupcake’?” He wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or flattered. 

  


“Because I wasn’t going to put ‘Stud Muffin’ in my phone, no matter what your sub-par T-shirts say!” 

  


Stiles snorted, and decided to be flattered. He called, and heard the faint buzz of his phone in the direction of the bed. He pawed through the tangled bedsheets until he came up with it, Mr. Sexy flashing bright on the screen. 

  


“Got it; thanks!” Stiles put Peter’s phone back where he found it and opened up his notifications. 

  


A text from his Dad saying he hoped he was having fun. Another from Lydia asking if he’d finally let himself have what he wanted. And an email from school, reminding him of the post-break assignments he had due. 

  


He meandered back to the kitchen, eyes glued to his phone screen. He slid into one of the stools at the island, and said, “Ugh, my professors are such fun ruiners. We have assignments due two days after I get back.” 

  


“Did you bring your stuff with you?” Peter added ingredients with movements so practiced he almost didn’t have to look at what he did. 

  


Stiles stared at Peter’s hands, and his thoughts went--no. No getting turned on in the kitchen. “Yeah, but I can get started on it when I get back. Or on the plane ride. Vacation is for vacation, and I missed the fuck out of you.” 

  


“Aw, so sweet. I missed the fuck out of you, too.” Peter nuzzled his neck. “You smell good.” 

  


Stiles tilted his head to provide Peter better access. “Better than dinner?” 

  


“Oh, I don’t know; I’m sure you’d make a great appetizer.” Peter breathed the words across Stiles’ neck, and he braced himself against the counter when the rest of him just wanted to melt into a pile of jelly. 

  


He could stay that way for the rest of his life, no problem. Of course, that thought brought him back to marriage, and his blush from earlier returned.

  


But then his stomach growled, and Peter chuckled. “Much as I’d love to take a bite or two out of you, I think it’s time to feed both of us.” 

  


Peter finished up the picatta, the tart scents of lemons and capers enough to make Stiles’ mouth water, and Stiles made sure to set a couple reminders about his assignments so they wouldn't slip his mind, and then got back to his Dad.

“My dad is such a smartass,” Stiles groaned, and typed out a fast ‘love you, but dinner, so bye’. 

  


Over dinner, they talked about Stiles’ plans for his classes and studiously avoided what they would do to hold their deepening relationship together. The questions rested like a boulder at the base of Stiles' throat, but he wanted to hold off, to enjoy the time they had left together, in person.

  


“I’ll handle the dishes,” Stiles offered. “You cooked. Besides, I believe there is another sock to be finished. So…” He trailed off when Peter boxed him into the corner of the counter just next to the sink. “Can I help you?” 

  


Peter smirked, because he was, and always would be, a superior bastard. Smooth as you please, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Stiles’ mouth, a barely-there caress, before retreating to gaze into Stiles’ eyes. 

  


Stiles’ heart began to pound, anticipation buzzing through him, and after an eternity of seconds, Peter bestowed another kiss, and another, gently overwhelming him in number until Stiles lost himself in the warmth of Peter’s firm embrace holding him in place. 

  


Stiles licked at Peter’s mouth once or twice, but Peter wouldn’t let him take the kisses beyond a delicate tease. When he relaxed and stopped trying to push, each kiss became more drugging than the last, and he couldn’t tell where Peter stopped and he began.

  


A hand cupped his jaw, and he blinked away some of the fuzzy euphoria until Peter’s face came into focus. “Hi.” 

  


“Hi.” Peter smiled, lips fuller, redder, and just wet enough that Stiles nearly whimpered with desire, though whether for kisses or something more, he couldn’t decide. 

  


“Uh, I-I’m going to do di--” Stiles cleared his throat-- “do dishes, and. Uh.” He really didn’t want to move from this very position, and the fact that he was leaving Sunday--fucking tomorrow--hit him hard enough that he blinked away the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes. 

  


With a rumbling growl, Peter scented him, rubbing their cheeks together before roughing Stiles’ sensitive neck with scratchy stubble, causing a slight burn and likely turning his fair skin red. For some reason, it helped to settle him, a little of his anxiety draining away. 

  


Peter left the room without a word, and Stiles started cleaning up with a curiously concentrated warmth radiating in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and I really hope you liked this most recent installment of the story! 
> 
> Also, you may have noticed that I updated the chapter count. I imagine there's one more chapter in this story (that hopefully won't take me another 1.5 years to get out, goodness) and then that'll be it. 
> 
> I might consider writing an epilogue, but for now, I want to get this one in a place where Steter are happy/solid and so am I. And, ya know, finish out Stiles' trip, at the very least. ;)
> 
> Come flail with me in the comments, on [Tumblr](http://denaceleste.tumblr.com) and/or [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/denaceleste)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Up the Ante](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202674) by [DenaCeleste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/pseuds/DenaCeleste), [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind)




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